


Together, We Are Strong.

by uncagingwardens



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Medical Procedures, Mercy hates being confined, Second Omnic Crisis, Zarya is a Good Nurse, blood tw, mercy is in trouble!, russian girlfriend to the rescue!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncagingwardens/pseuds/uncagingwardens
Summary: Zarya was used to close calls. She almost thrived on the adrenaline to push her through battles. Mercy was not used to close quarter skirmishes in the slightest.





	1. Wounded

Close calls were the norm for Zarya. She was more than used to them, being shaken and out of breath with an omnic’s sparking parts at her feet, a spray of oil across her face.

That was what she grew up with, right on the edge of the pair of crises that scarred her home.

This viewing war as normalcy was lost to the Doctor, however. She rose to her status in the gilded halls of academia and the stark white walls of hospitals. She was a prodigy, mentally gifted far beyond what Zarya ever hoped to fully grasp.

That’s why she had such a fondness for the small woman. She was sharp, bright and the embodiment of kindness. She was never far behind in battle, depending and trusting her team to protect her so she could do what she came to: heal, and save lives. That task alone was what brought the Swiss woman into the fray with Overwatch. And, if Zarya’s ego had a say in it, it wasn’t the only one that kept her around, seeing as Mercy outright disagrees with Overwatch’s militarized strategies.

While a close call was normal for the Russian woman, Mercy avoided them at all costs. She got lucky most of the time, but on rare occasions…

Zarya felt a bolt of cold fear run down her spine as a very panicked Mercy called out a line Aleksandra always dreaded to hear: _Get them off me!_

The words were laced with fear and echoed sharply over the field. Zarya couldn’t reach her with her shields, so she did what any self-respecting soldier did when a brother-in-arms was down.

She turned and ran.

 

Mercy had a high tolerance for blood and a low tolerance for pain. She blindly kept firing at the encroaching enemies, feeling dizzy and light-headed even as her suit kept trying to heal her. The oncoming damage was too much for the suit to compensate for, and things were looking grim. No one was in range for her to zip away, and when her back hit the wall, she nearly lost her grip on the gun.

That was until a hulking mass of muscle and pink hair came charging in without a second thought. The resulting skirmish was short and Mercy let herself slump, trembling, to the ground as the Valkyrie suit’s nanotech got to work on healing her.

“Come now, ангел,” came the words from the mass of muscle blurring into Mercy’s vision, said figure lifting the Doctor almost effortlessly into one of her arms like a mother would a child. “Hush, it is all right.”

Angela hadn’t realized just how badly she was trembling, bloodied hands grasping almost blindly at the other’s armor. She could hear the distant whirring of the transport coming to remove them from the field, and could never thank Overwatch more for it.


	2. Nursemaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Angela Ziegler is not usually the one being tended to. She's the one with the bright and happy bedside manner, bringing comfort and reassurances to her patients.
> 
> Now, she has to take a back seat and let her pink-haired nurse take care of her.

It was strange for Mercy to be the one in the bed, being tended to by a nurse. She was usually the one with the happy bedside manner and gentle voice soothing the distraught patients of hers on the battlefield. 

Now, she was in her own bed being tended to by a very large Russian woman who did her best to be gentle, but her hands were much larger than what bandage changes often required.

“ Fuck!” Mercy shouted in pain as the bandage was pulled away from her side much too forcefully, causing a slight tugging on her stitches which began seeping bright red blood almost immediately upon removal of the gauze. She hissed, and Zarya’s brows furrowed as she wiped firmly at the wound with a new pad of sterile cotton.

“Aleksandra, stop!” The doctor cried out, gripping her girlfriend’s wrist in a tight grip to stop her movement. “ _ Shit _ , too rough.”

“But you are bleeding.”

“Yes, my love, I am well aware,” Mercy muttered, running a hand through her messy blonde hair. “Here-- Just, give me the gauze and the tape.”

“Angela, you are supposed to be resting. I can do it.” Zarya’s gaze met Mercy’s, a slight lift of her brow as if to encourage the doctor to try and fight her.

“Ugh, fine.” She grumbled, rubbing her temples with her fingertips as the other woman applied the salve and bandaging, being mindful to be much more gentle. Once the bandage was firmly tacked down with tape, Zarya fixed the blonde’s bedshirt and kissed her forehead. 

“Now, was that so terrible?” The pink-haired woman grinned, tucking a stray lock of the blonde’s hair behind her ear. It must have escaped the messy bun she’d attempted to confine her hair with.

“I suppose I have had worse bedside care,” the doctor teased, pulling the covers back over herself and settling back in the comfort and warmth of their bed. “Thank you.”

Zarya laughed at that, putting away the medical supplies back into Mercy’s bag. She situated herself beside the doctor on the bed, stroking her cheek ever so slightly. “It is never a problem to take care of you. You do it for me so much.”

“That’s my job, after all. _ Doctor. _ ”

“Yes, but I like being your nursemaid. Lets me get to help you be the best you possible.” The Russian smiled and gave the Swiss woman a light kiss on the forehead. “You should rest.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing for the past week!” Mercy griped, smacking the bed impatiently with the palms of her hands. “I’m going stir-crazy!”

“Ангел, I know,” Zarya sighed, rubbing Mercy’s shoulder slowly, working out a small knot in the muscle. “But it is for the best.”

Mercy gave the other a slight smile, sighing low. “Using my own words against me?”

“Well, of course. You’re the doctor here.” Zarya laughed, opening her arms to the blonde, who moved carefully into them, tucking her head against the other’s chest. The blonde heaved a sigh, letting her eyes close for a moment. Mercy curled up against her lover, fingers twirling in her short pink locks as she pressed her face into the crook of Zarya’s neck.

The Russian smiled, carefully wrapping her arms around her waiflike girlfriend, one hand splaying the width of her torso. She felt the blonde nibbling on the skin of her neck and chuckled in the back of her throat.

“Now, you know better.”  
  
“What?” The blonde peeped up, innocence painted all over her face.

“You know what you’re doing, Doctor Ziegler,” Zarya tutted, patting Mercy’s rear lightly with the palm of her hand. “You’re not healed enough.”

“But Zarya,” Mercy whined, tugging up her bedshirt enticingly and pouting at the other. “I’m all prone and pretty.”

“You are also wounded,” The Russian grumbled, holding Mercy still as she tried to squirm even closer. “Ангел.  _ Angela _ . Are you even listening to me?”

“Mmh.”  
  
“You’re not listening to me at all.”


End file.
